


Reminiscence at Sea

by KuroJanKazu



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6454756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuroJanKazu/pseuds/KuroJanKazu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been almost a year since the Grunkles set out on their journey together to investigate the anomalies of the world. They have been able to repair their sibling relationship, having come to terms with some things, apologizing for others and forgiving each other, but Stan senses that there is something else. There is something they haven't spoken about, a question that has yet to be asked. What happened all those years in the multiverse? Ford's answer to this question, though, is not at all what Stan expected to hear. The sun is setting on the horizon, over the calm waters of the sea as Ford commences his story.<br/>      "The greatest thing you'll ever learn... is just to love and be loved in return." - "Nature Boy" by Eden Ahbez</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beyond the Portal

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the Reverse Falls AU and the art and concepts of: @elentori-art, @swiftboone, @obsidianchameleon, @ciphored, @askciphers and @cirilee on Tumblr. Thank you all so much, and a special thank you to @cirilee for reading, commenting on and supporting my ideas. Without you I would not have had the courage to post this online.

     The ocean waves crashed ever so slightly against the hull of the ship. Stan and Ford had chosen to take the day off to relax and enjoy tranquility, enjoy the cool sea breeze that now softly hit the sails. The golden hour was approaching, and the sun’s rays reflected beautifully on the surface of the water. Everything felt perfect. They had spent months at sea; the things that once drew them apart now drew them together in conversations. They spoke to each other, coming to terms with the past, listening to each other, forgiving each other. They finally felt like brothers again, but something still worried Stan. What happened all those years in the multiverse?

     Ford always seemed to dance around the topic, and Stan never asked that question directly. Stan knew Ford’s apologies for the way he reacted for him re-opening the portal were sincere, the “thank you” was sincere, but there was a certain sadness that remained in his eyes that Stan still noticed. Those thirty years somehow felt disconnected from the anger he had once showed Stan for rescuing him, like there was something missing, another source of that anger, not anything that had to do with universities or the portal in itself. Stan thought it time to address it, but struggled to find the right words to ask it.

     The day had felt long to Stan, consumed in thought. He glanced at Ford who sat reading in a relaxed posture, enjoying the last few hours of precious sunlight. Now that Stan noticed, the breeze had turned cold. He decided he would prepare some hot chocolate for the two of them. Mabel—worried about the well-being of her precious Grunkles—had promptly supplied them with an industrial-sized bulk of it so that it would help them survive the chilly nights at sea. Gosh, did Stan miss the kids. It had been almost a year since the last time he saw them in person, but only hours since their last phone call. Stan brought the two cups of hot chocolate and gave one to Ford, who answered by a look and turned his eyes back to the page. They both sat in silence; Stan struggled to form the right words, but was not subtle in the slightest. Ford could see his brother staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He closed the book and spoke.

     “Is there anything you want to ask me, Stanley?” Ford sipped on his cup and could see Stan was rearranging his thoughts by his expression.

     “Uh, yeah, actually,” Stan rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. He sighed and looked at Ford with a determination on his face. “Look, I know we apologized and made up with the whole thing about the portal and your college, but I can’t help but think there’s something else, something… we haven’t talked about.”

     Ford’s gaze had changed as he looked at his brother. Stan could recognize the familiar sadness in his eyes.

     “Ford, what happened in those thirty years? I mean, you don’t have to tell me right now, but—”

     “No, no. It’s fine. I think it’s time we talked about it.”

     Stan looked at him with concern. “Are you sure?”

     Ford nodded, a faint smile on his face. “The first few days after the incident were very confusing; I was angry and spent the days arguing to myself, until I decided that it was getting me nowhere. I set out to do what I knew best, research. Some of the dimensions were very primitive in design, so finding a rift was easy. In other dimensions, it was harder; some dimensions detected that I was not necessary in their continuum and zapped me to another one. In some, the travel between dimensions was almost instant; in others it could take me hours or days. I saw… some things that aren’t really important, but I started noticing patterns in the connections between dimensions, and I determined that by finding the dimension closest to our own in the physical composition of the world and the subjects that inhabi—”

     “Yeah, I get it, lots of science stuff. I don’t wanna’ be mean, but could you skip a little further ahead, maybe get to the point of—”

     “The point is,” Ford adjusted his glasses in annoyance, “The dimension best connected to our own would be the reversal of ours.”

     “So, you did want to come back home.”

     “Yes… I did.” There was a moment of silence between the two. “After many encounters with several different versions of Gravity Falls, I finally found it.”

~ • ~

     The portal whirred in a constant hum of machinery, shutting down. The room partially glowed in a faint, blue light. Of what he could see, the room was decorated exquisitely in the finest of accessories and materials which seemed to contrast heavily with the several screens and electrical equipment scattered around. In front of him stood someone, strategically hiding in the shadowed part of the room. Ford kept his ground as the person approached, his glasses reflecting the stream of blue light emanating from the portal before it shut down. Just as his features were becoming clearer, darkness overcame the room. This was quickly corrected as the chandeliers lit up revealing the person looking at him with calculating eyes. Ford saw himself, or rather, not himself, but a version of himself from this dimension.

     “How interesting, very interesting indeed,” He circled around him. This Stanford was very different from all the others. He seemed to showcase his wealth on his clothing, prized furs at his collar and silks of dark, earthy colors. He spoke with an air of artificial sophistication. He now talked aloud to himself. “It seems the gateway has finally worked, still not the right dimension, though.” He now addressed Ford. “My name is Stanford, but I expect you already know that. You look a little rough for wear, there.”

     Ford nodded. “It has been a long time since I’ve been in a non-hostile dimension.”

     “I can see that,” he laughed. “Well, nothing to worry about here. Might I ask, what brought you here?”

     “Well, I am in search for my dimension. You see, I was accidentally sucked into my portal years ago, been traveling ever since.”

     Stanford’s eyes grew. “Aha! Another scholar studying the anomalies of their world, am I correct?”

     Ford nodded as Stanford led him closer to the exit of the room.

     “How exciting, we must compare notes later on. Now, allow me to show you the utmost hospitality. A shower and a change of clothes might help.” He laughed. “Here,” he placed one hand on Ford’s shoulder and used the other to gesture the instructions. “Take the first right at the end of this corridor. My servant will attend to your needs; then you will join me for a delectable dinner in the dining room. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to resume my research.”

     Ford blinked, a bit confused and overwhelmed with the grand hallway before him. He walked slowly, admiring his surroundings, when he noticed a figure he very well recognized and was immediately overcome by anger.

     “You,” his words seemed to drag a growl through clenched teeth.

     The figure met Ford’s eyes and let out a startled shriek; it quickly disappeared past the near corner, leaving a trail of blue light which Ford followed. He found himself in another hallway, faintly candle lit, but he could see a soft glow near the wall. He approached it carefully to find a trembling, one eyed figure hiding in a book shelf. Ford now stared at it, confused.

     “No!” It shrieked, “Please, Master Stanford. I don’t know what I did to make you angry this time. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just— please—” The small figure pressed its body closer to the inner corner of the book self; its eye held a gaze of fear, an arm over it in a protective manner.

     Ford remained standing, puzzled. The figure was sobbing, still trembling. “Bill?” He asked the figure. Could this really be him, cowering by his presence?

     The figure now returned to Ford the same puzzled expression. “Bill? How do you know—” He circled around him, examining him closely. “You aren’t…. my Stanford” He opened his eye in surprise. “I see; you must be the one who entered through our portal, one of Stanford’s versions from the multiverse.”

     Ford stepped back. “Who are you?” He asked and saw the blue light of the figure grow more intense, almost blinding. A human-like outline formed around the figure, and Ford saw as a translucent matter covered it, moving fluidly within the outline. A slightly opaque layer formed around it, covering most of the light. Now Ford could see more clearly; as the light subsided, a last layer had formed around the body. An image wrapped itself around it; it looked almost human, but Ford could see a subtle haziness remain as his eyes focused on it. A certain fluorescence clung to its skin and hair.

     “I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Ford could see only one of its sad eyes, the other—if it had another—was hidden by fluorescent locks of blue. It—he—bowed his head to Ford. “My name is Will Cipher.”


	2. Who Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, there! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :D Cirilee helped me determine which scenes of the ones I had planned I should write for this chapter and also suggested some things. Thank you, darling!  
> ~~~~~~  
> April 20, 2016  
> !!!! Wow, thank you so much for the support, guys. :D This has been very overwhelming. Oh my gosh. Thank you for all the wonderful comments, and thanks to the senpai that noticed the fic (looking at you obsidianchameleon and ciphored ^w^) because of cirilee's beautiful artwork. Both @ciphored and @cirilee on tumblr have made beautiful art for this fic (and I know their art is what has brought most of you here, but those who haven't seen it. Go check it out!).
> 
> I want nothing more than to continue writing for this fic right now, but I am swamped with end-of-term college work, so I wont be able to update for the next few weeks. D: BUT! I will be free ending the first week of May; then I will be able to dedicate my time to the fic and tryyy to make it a weekly update. I'l make a post on my tumblr (@kurojankazu) whenever I update. See you soon, my lovelies. ^-^

~ • ~

     “Will Cipher?” Stan burst out laughing. “Goodness, Sixer. How many demonic corn chips are ya’ gonna’ get yourself involved with?” He could see Ford cross his hands, his expression as annoyed as ever. “In one lifetime.” Stan continued laughing.

     “Are you done?” Ford’s look persisted, but his posture was relaxed.

     “Yeah, I’m done,” he said, feeling a light sense of guilt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that wa-”

     “I know, Stanley.” Ford chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.” He sighed. “Will was very different from Bill; he was actually the complete opposite.”

     “You always did attract the extremes,” Stan said in a teasing tone.

     “Really?” Ford said in the same tone, arching an eyebrow, “because I seem to remember that was you.”

     “Ha!” He taunted. 

     "Might I remind you of that beautiful spider lady who managed to seduce you?"

     Stan blushed, "and how do you know that?"

     "Mabel wrote a sock opera about it for her theater class a few weeks ago, called it _Seduction on the Mountain Top: Love and Spiders."_

     "How come I never found out about it?" Stan responded, a bit irritated.

     "She said you'd be embarrassed." Ford was grinning.

    _'"Hmph!"_ Stan crossed his arms and made an exaggerated frown, moving his head to the side, away from Ford.

      Ford was laughing.

      Stan smiled. _Good_ , he thought; _I'm glad_ _I could make you laugh_.

~ • ~

     Will raised his head and met Ford’s gaze. “It is an honor to meet you, Master Stanford.”

     “Ford,” he said, his hands tightening into fists. He felt every muscle tense. _What is happening?_ “I’d prefer you call me Ford.”

     “Very well,” Will said, shifting his head in curiosity. He took a step closer. Ford took a step back. “The baths are this way, Master Ford,”

     Will signaled to the dimly lit hallway behind Ford. He seemed to wait a moment for him to take the first step, but seeing as he didn’t, Will lead the way.

     Now that Ford noticed, Will's luminescence had intensified, reflecting on the decorated mirrors that lined the hall. There were also paintings, depicting scenery of valleys and rivers and light houses. The doors of the rooms they passed were carved in outstanding detail, geometrical patterns combined with flowers, and each displayed a golden doorknob. He sighed; he had to admit this Stanford did have style. Ford looked in front of him; Will’s image seemed almost surreal, his glow had taken an ethereal quality in Ford’s eyes. It was truly mesmerizing. He shook his head. _No_. He had to be careful. 

      He remembered Will as a figure cowering in the corner of the bookshelf. He did not seem like a threat, at all, but neither did Bill at first. Will stopped.

     There was a set carved double doors to his left, which Will was now signaling to. “These are the guest baths.”

     The doors opened, and the room was lit brightly. The walls and floors were of ivory tile and gold accents. Ford gasped at the magnificence of the room and felt himself relax a bit. It had been a very long time since he had bathed himself, and even on the rare times he did, no bathroom had been as grand as this. The bath tub seemed to be built in to the wall of the far right corner of the room, and now that he noticed, it had already been filled with clean, steaming water. He was a bit surprised when Will stepped in the room as well.

     He seemed to look at him with a confused expression; Ford realized what he was waiting for. He could feel his cheeks flush and took his hand to the back of his neck. “I think I can take it from here,” he said with a nervous smile on his face.

     Will blinked, “Very well then. Call for me when you are done.” He exited the room.

     Ford exhaled in relief and took a moment to compose himself. He chose to take in the calm of the moment and the soft scent of flowers from the water.

     He was beginning to undress himself when he remembered the gash on his right forearm. He had done his best to keep it as clean as possible, keeping it covered in a spiral bandage, but now he could notice signs of infection. He made a mental note to ask Will if there were any antibiotics or medicine he could use to treat the wound. Ford sighed and stepped into the warm waters of the bath tub; he could feel sharp pains across the muscles and joints of his legs and back as he was stepping in. He closed his eyes and let his body relax, though his mind was consumed in thought. This had been a very—very— long journey, and he was in a sense surprised he had survived this long. He was content with the thought that he was so close to home, and his brother. He sighed; he didn’t want to think about his brother right now.

     Ford decided to just clear his mind, concentrating on the soothing waters and just appreciating the serenity of the moment. After a while he realized he may have spent too much time there, Stanford was expecting him soon. He sighed. Even if he was keeping Stanford waiting, he didn’t regret the fact he had stayed as long as he did; he deserved some peace and quiet after all the horror he had gone through to get here. He stepped out of the bath tub, drying himself with a towel in the process.

     He found his new set of clothes folded and placed neatly on a pillowed bench behind a privacy screen, in the Victorian style. As he picked up and examined the clothing, his eyes narrowed in observation. _No_ , he thought looking at the heavily buttoned jacket and pants all made from the same bolt of embroidered and patterned blue silk. Even the “simple” shirt that went under the jacket was— they were all just _too_ much and seemed very uncomfortable. When he dressed in them and saw himself in the mirror, he felt his jaw tense in distaste. He chuckled, _how ridiculous_. “Hey, umm, Will?”

     “Yes?” The voice came from right outside the doors.

     “Could you come in the room for a moment?” The doors slid open, and Will stepped inside, looking at Ford with the same confused expression as earlier. “Do you have anything less…restricting?” He could see Will tilt his head. “Something simple, out of cotton maybe?”

     Will blinked. “Of course,” he snapped his fingers.

     Ford was now in soft cotton pants and a button up shirt, over that he had a simple woven sweater vest. It was all very comfortable, but the quick change had made him yelp in pain at the rash impact of fabric against the wound on his forearm.

     Will stepped closer, his look worried. “Master Ford, are you all right?”

     “Yeah, I’m fine. It was just-” He lifted the sleeves of the shirt to reveal the wound.

     “Oh, I am so sorry!” Will’s eye had widened.

     “No, no, it’s ok,” Ford said nervously. “That was there before.”

     “I see.” Will stepped even closer and lifted Ford’s arm so that he could inspect it closely, then placed a hand on top of it. Ford didn’t know how to react, but he just found himself staring at Will’s hand. It had four fingers. His gaze broke when he moved it, and now that Ford could see, his arm was all healed. He smiled in astonishment.

     “That was the most apparent wound, but” he closed his eye in concentration, “there are some other things I can help you with.”

     Ford felt a bit embarrassed to say it, “Please do.”

     Will stepped closer and put his hand on Ford’s chest, closing his visible eye again, and Ford could feel the tension release in his neck and his back, his posture changing in response. Aid traveled down his spine and branched out to his limbs, to small tears, inflamed ligaments, to injured joints and other pains he had grown numb to throughout time. Will now looked up at Ford through lilac colored eyes, “There, all better.”

     Ford looked down at Will, their proximity alarming, but he found he could not move away. “Th- thank you.”

     “You have a beautiful heartbeat,” Will said, just a passing comment. He stepped away, walking towards the doors and expecting Ford to follow.

     Ford was still standing in his place, goosebumps had risen up his spine, and he felt his cheeks flush. He shook off this feeling and caught up with Will, now turning the corner out of the bath room.

     When they arrived at the dining room, Stanford was already sitting there, at the furthest end of the lengthy table, already eating. “Ah, perfect. Come, my friend.”

     Will moved with measured steps in front of Ford and reached Stanford before him, bowing in a sign of reverence that Stanford dismissed with a raised eyebrow. He placed himself standing next to Stanford’s right, not without first pulling out the nearest chair for Ford.

     Ford walked quietly and sat down. The room was lit with a few candelabrums and Will’s glow, though only the center of the room. The corners were draped in shadows. The only sounds for a moment were of Stanford’s knife against the plate, setting Ford’s teeth on edge and making the muscles on his neck tense.

     Stanford was the first to speak, “If I remember correctly, you said you accidentally fell inside the portal. Yes?”

     Ford’s shoulders tensed. “Yes”

     “May I ask how you fell in?”

     There was a moment of silence before Ford responded. “My brother and I… got into a fight. The portal was on. He pushed me. I fell back.”

     “Aggressive? Interesting. My Stanley was very different. Naïve, calm, trusting, too trusting for his own good.”

     “Was?”

     “He is sadly…no longer with us.” Stanford said, then proceeded to take a sip of his wine.

     Ford’s heart sank. “I see.”

     There was another silence; once again it was Stanford who interrupted it. “You are not wearing the clothes I instructed.” Ford could see Will trembled at Stanford’s words

     “I asked him to change them. I’m sorry. I just… preferred something a bit lighter.” His jaw tensed, and he forced out a smile. “They were very beautiful, though. Thank you. I hope you don’t mind.”

     Stanford raised an eyebrow and the edge of his lips curled. _Was that a smile?_ “Oh, not at all; I am glad you feel comfortable.”

     “I do. Will also healed my wounds, and I am very thankful for that.” He glanced at Will, who had raised a curled hand to his lips and now looked at him, a glimmer in his eye.

     “Well, I am pleased to know my thrall has served you well.”

     Ford’s eyes were serious, but he managed to keep his smile. “You have a very powerful ally serving you.”

     Stanford glanced at Will and back at Ford. “Yes, I suppose I do; although, he is only as powerful as he is allowed to be.” _Was that a laugh?_ Stanford was now getting up. “I am very sorry to say that I must leave you now. A brilliant mind’s work is never finished. I presume you know that feeling as well.”

     Ford’s jaw tensed as he stood up. “Yes, I do.”

     Stanford’s seemingly kind eyes met Ford’s “You are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. I will supply you with a study room and whatever I can to aid you in search for the coordinates to your dimension, and I’m more than happy to lend the portal to you once I am done with it. You are also welcome to study the mysteries of this dimension, if you would like. All though, if you find anything new, it is your obligation to tell me.” He laughed.

     “Thank you, that's... very kind of you.”

     Stanford put his hand on Ford’s shoulder and smiled at him. “Hey, I promise. You will find your way home.” Ford did not know how to react to this. Before he noticed, Stanford had already started walking towards the door. “Will?”

     “Y-yes, Master Stanford?”

     “Keep our guest company while he finishes his meal, and afterwards take him to the guest room, the one with the adjoining bathroom. Make sure he is treated with the utmost care,” and with that, he had left the room.

     Ford exhaled and sat down. He had not even touched his meal; it had turned cold. It seemed Will had noticed because Ford had blinked, and now the food was steaming. He looked at Will, a sincere smile on his face. “Thank you.”

     Will stood, looking at Ford with a sad eye. “You are very welcome…Master Ford.”

     “You can just call me Ford.”

     “Ford,” Will got down on one knee, bowing his head. “Thank you, Ford… for defending me.” He rose to meet his gaze.

     Ford’s cheeks flushed; “don’t- don’t mention it.” He laughed nervously, then ate his meal in silence, stealing glances at Will every once in a while. When he was done, Will cleared the table and took him afterwards throughout the confusing corridors to his room.

     The room was very spacious. Heavy, red drapes covered the furthest wall and what he guessed was the entryway of a balcony. The bed was draped in a fabric of the same color, although the material seemed lighter. The room was lit by the soft flames in the fireplace. Sleepwear was laid neatly on the bed, and the small bag with his few possessions was placed above a chest in front of the bed. He now noticed a familiar blue glow enter the room, signaling to the door on the left wall.

     “That is the bathroom. I have supplied it with, I hope, whatever you need.”

     “Thank you; this is more than I could have asked for.” Something had paralyzed Will. An expression took over his face, which in a moment turned to worry. Ford joined his eyebrows. “Will, are you ok?” 

     "I’m… fine.” He looked up at Ford. “Is there anything else you would like?”

     “No, I’m good, thanks.”

     “Very well, then. I must tend to my n- night time duties. Please don’t hesitate to call for me if you need anything.” He hastily left the room.

     Ford sighed. After brushing his teeth and changing clothes he got into bed, trying to find sleep. He lay with a hand over his head looking at the folds of the canopy of above the bed. He was too consumed in contemplation, replaying the events of today over and over. _Will Cipher_ , he found himself thinking. _Who are you?_

———

     Will trod the halls, trembling. He reached the door of Stanford’s study, pausing for a moment, gathering his strength before he stepped in. When he did, he heard the familiar whir of the portal, and could see Stanford at his usual spot. He was sitting at a desk surrounded by a mad array of papers, vials, books and low hanging plants. He carefully approached him, though stayed a distance away. “M-master Stanford…”

     Stanford glanced in his direction, then back at the paper he was writing on. “I see you have attracted our guest’s attention.”

     Will dropped to his knees, his eyes swelling with tears and a gaze firm on the ground. “I- I apologize greatly for any shame or anger I might have caused earlier, M-master Stanford.” He could hear him get closer and flinched at every step.

     Stanford stopped in front of him, casting a shadow over Will. “He seems…fond of your company. _Serve_ him. Befriend him, if you must, and bring me any new information you find.” He got down on one knee. “He will prove to be an asset to my—our— plan.”

     Will shuddered at his proximity and saw his jaw being lifted towards him, meeting Stanford’s gaze.

     He spoke in a soft tone. “You have done well, my _darling_.”


	3. Of Roses and Thorns

     Ford awoke to a stream of yellow light seeping under the heavy curtains of the balcony. The fire that had brightly lit the room the previous night was now smaller, dimmer and crackling softly, nearing its end. Ford got up and stretched, letting out a long sigh. _Finally_ , he thought, _a full night’s sleep_. The light under the curtains warmed his feet as he walked towards them. He parted them, now, and had to shield his eyes for a moment before they adjusted to the intensity of a beautiful sunset.

     Rays of yellow light were disappearing behind the tree line and mountain range. A layer of soft fog had formed around edge of the cliff where the manor stood on, and the skies were covered in sparse clouds, moving slowly. As the yellows receded, shades of blues and violets took their place. Light blue and lilac. Ford remembered him, remembered the night before and snapped back to reality. As he passed the entryway, he found Will standing inside the room.

     A table had been set up and a meal served by the fire place. Its fire glowed powerfully, now, once again warming the room. Will bowed and rose, looking at Ford through a curious eye. Ford approached the table silently. Will was the first to speak.

     “You seemed peaceful. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

     Ford sat, “Thank you.” He adjusted his glasses. “Watching the sunset is always a joyous experience.”

     Now that Ford noticed, Will held himself with remarkable elegance, his hands behind his back. “Is it?”

     “Have you ever watched the sun set?” Ford asked unbelievingly.

     “I have seen it, but I have not…felt it. I cannot feel joy in it as a human might.”

     “Ah, I see.” Ford somehow felt a little sad at that.

     “Could you describe how you felt?” Will said, curious. “If you don’t mind, of course,” he added timidly.

     “I might not be the best at describing it,” he shrugged, “but I’ll try my best.” Ford took a moment, trying to assemble words together. “Well—It’s like—you are captivated by the colors—and you see the colors change and the clouds move softly, and you can’t really look away from it. It seems like time stops, like there is nothing that could interrupt that moment. Nothing can go wrong. Worries disappear, and you somehow feel safe and can just stop thinking and abandon yourself to the colors. Then the sun is gone, and you come back to reality.”

     “That sounds lovely.” Will’s eye had widened in awe and now glimmered.

     If Will could not feel happiness, this seemed the closest thing to it. It made the edges of Ford’s lips curl into a smile. Ford started eating and tried his best not to let his gaze wander over Will, but it did. He saw that Will’s pose had changed; he seemed relaxed in his company, more comfortable. It was so different from the way he held himself next to Stanford, afraid and trembling. He saw Will tilt his head, and Ford realized he had been staring at him. Ford coughed intently and looked back at his food, a bit embarrassed and with reddened cheeks.

     “Oh, I apologize, I forgot to ask. Would you like a glass of water?”

     “Yes, Please.” Ford kept his eyes on the plate before him, not wanting to meet his eyes again. Will approached and placed the glass next to the plate. Ford caught a glimpse of glowing lilac on Will’s wrists; he didn't realize he had dropped his fork until he heard it clatter on the table.

     A set of shackles, glowing, mocking, demeaning. It made Ford’s jaw tense. He was disgusted, angry. This was Stanford’s doing. His words were cold, each spoken with a pause in between. “How long have you had these?”

     There was silence; then Will responded. “Since the early morning, after you retired to your room to sleep.”

     Ford held himself, tense, still with anger. Only now did he notice his grip on Will’s right forearm. If Will could feel how tight he was holding him, he might have shrieked in pain. Ford gathered himself as he loosened his grip. Will retrieved his hand slowly and unsure. Ford’s eyes met his. Will’s expression, indecipherable. Ford felt what he had done, heavy in his chest. He spoke hastily; “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

     There was another silence, longer this time. Will broke it. “Thank you, but…you did not need to apologize.”

     “Yes, I did,” Ford said, steadily. He had looked at Will with a serious expression, but it turned sad after meeting his gaze, Ford’s eyes lowered. He feared that whatever comfort Will had felt moments before might have been lost.

     Will said, unexpectedly. “You really are different.”

     Ford lifted his head in a sharp movement. Will’s exposed eye had widened. Will, it seemed, felt he had revealed more than he should have. He excused himself and left hurriedly. Ford had opened his mouth to say something, but he was now alone in the room, left to his thoughts and unfinished meal.

     He had lost his appetite, but forced himself to eat. Troubled thoughts couldn’t be silenced. He moved the plate and glass forward and placed his elbows on the table. Holding his forehead in his hands, he exhaled loudly. He got up and walked to the bed. A change of clothing had been left there, left just as neatly as the day before. He changed into his new set of clothes. There was a knock on the door. Ford opened it, and Will stood shyly outside.

     He bowed. “Master Stanford requests your presence in his study room.” Ford stepped outside of the room and followed Will. They walked in awkward silence, side by side, and Ford was aware of just how close Will was to him. Conflicted about whether to speak of not, he could feel his heart beat faster. He would have spoken, if they had not already reached the exquisite carved doors of Stanford’s study room.

     He entered to find Stanford facing the portal, hands at his hips. The room was better lit than last time, and the portal was shut off. Ford looked at Will, at his side, and Will gestured for him to walk to Stanford. Ford measured his breathing at the sight of the shackle, then traversed his way through the maze of machinery to stand at Stanford’s side. His hands had turned into fists as he looked at Stanford with a serious expression.

     Stanford turned to greet him, but at seeing him he had raised an eyebrow. “Is something troubling you?” His lips had formed a sly smile. Ford looked back at Will, his eyes on Will’s wrists. Stanford had followed his gaze.

     Stanford spoke, “Ah, I see. Well, I thought about what you said in our conversation last night. He is powerful, and his talents, if gone unsupervised, might pose a danger to us both. So, I’ve taken precautions.”

     Ford dug his nails into his palms, “That’s not what I—”

     “Come with me; I need that brilliant mind of yours to help me with something,” Stanford had interrupted him and now led him to a desk. It was placed against a wall and not too far from the portal. Ford joined his eyebrows in confusion. “You see, I am having a bit of a problem with the gateway. Though I am finally able to turn it on, it won’t stay on for more than a few seconds, and each interval of time it stays on is inconsistent. I am afraid that this might cause an inconvenience for my studies, not to mention how dangerous it would be to send you home in these conditions.”

     Ford could hear his own heart-beat at that word, _home_. He looked at Stanford, who seemed concerned for him, worried even.

     Stanford faced Ford and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am sure the problem can be solved by a talented intellect such as you.” He smiled.

     Ford’s cheeks had reddened. He adjusted his glasses. “Well, I suppose I could take a look at the schematics.”

 

 

º º º

     Ford had come back to his room alone; he bathed and changed clothes. Work on the portal with Stanford had taken him into the late hours of the night. As he exited the bathroom and entered his room, he heard a voice.

     “Can I speak with you?” Will said, shyly. He stood close to the red silks of the balcony drapes. He would have been showered in moonlight, if he had not already produced a similar glow.

     “Oh, of course,” Ford walked closer to Will.

     “I want to thank you for helping my master with what I couldn’t.” Will now looked into Ford’s eyes, and Ford felt his heart-beat quicken. Will stepped closer; “Stanford has given you his share of complements, but I’d like to say, you really are very talented and brilliant.”

     Ford stood with flushed cheeks. “Th-thank you.” In the moment he had closed his eyes to blink, he felt the impact.

 

~ • ~

     "Wait. Hold on,” Stan gestured with his hand. “He slapped you?”

     “He did,” Ford said, a bit embarrassed.

     “Heh, serves ’ya right for letting ’em butter ’ya up with all those stupid complements.” Stan spoke in a cynical, raspy voice.

     “I know, Stanley.”

     “Seriously, Ford. That-” Stan paused, squinting his eyes, “other you played ’ya like a damn fiddle to do his dirty work.”

     “Actually,” Ford paused, “That is exactly why he…”

~ • ~

 

     Ford held his sore cheek and responded through clenched teeth, “Why did you do that?”

     Will had stepped back and now spoke in a calm voice, “To prove a point.”

     “What?” Ford asked, confused.

     “You are vulnerable in the face of flattery.” Ford let out a sharp breath at those words. Will continued; “it’s a weakness that can be taken advantage of if you are not careful.” Ford stood with widened eyes, unable to speak. After a moment, Will spoke again. “I saw the way he—”

     “— _used me?_ ” The words came out in a mixture of anger and disgust. Ford clenched his fists. “Then you know how he treats you.” Ford saw Will’s eye turn sad. “Why haven’t you broken the contract?”

     "I can’t,” Will answered after a moment. Ford exhaled loudly as he walked towards the bed. “It’s more complicated than that,” Will said hastily. There was a pause. “I’m sorry…if what I said distresses you.”

     “No, no, It’s ok,” Ford said while looking at the floor, overwhelmed by everything that had been said. “You’re right. When I contracted Bill he—” but he couldn’t finish that sentence. He heard Will’s soft footsteps approach him and felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Will gazing at him through a calm eye.

     Will retrieved his hand and spoke, “I have to go now. Good night,” and in a moment’s notice he had exited the room.

 

———

     “You have been with him long enough, surely you must have found out something of interest about him.” Stanford said to Will, raising an eyebrow.

     Will stood in silence, wary of Stanford and how he should respond. If Stanford was in one of his moods then he would…

     “Will…” Stanford glared coldly at him. “You know I don’t tolerate your ineptitude.”

     He was. Will spoke fearfully; “He had Bill—under contract.”

     “I see. He must be a worthy man to employ the likes of Bill.” Stanford paused. His lips formed a devious smile, and now he spoke in a different tone. “I am jealous that he could receive help from a demon far more competent than you will ever be.” Stanford walked towards Will. “Stronger, more talented, _perfect_ , I would exchange you for him in a heartbeat.”

     Will had stepped back, looking at Stanford through wide eyes. “You would—” Stanford’s words had sent Will into an immobile state of panic.

     Stanford stood in front of Will; it seemed he had enjoyed Will’s reaction. “It’s not true, _darling_. I’m disappointed.” He chuckled, holding Will by one of his wrists, slightly stretching his arm in the small space between them. “You should know me better.” He uncurled Will’s hand, exposing his palm and waved a hand over it. As he removed it, Will could see a glowing, blue rose, resting in his palm by the petals and only a small part of the stem. Will curled his hand carefully over the rose, and as he looked up to meet Stanford’s eyes, he spoke again. “Did you really think I would have him,” Stanford inched closer, “instead of the well-behaved pawn you turned out to be?”

 

 

º º º

     Will paced the halls of the manor, each candelabrum’s flame extinguished as he passed by. He held in his hands the glowing, blue rose. He examined each petal, wondering, if he could feel, whether each could be described as soft or coarse and if the thorns would hurt if he had pricked his finger.

     There was an unfamiliar ray of light, making a vertical line on the farthest part of the wall. The source was Ford’s bedroom, and when he neared the doors, Will saw him. Ford sat on the floor, his back resting on the bed frame, facing the fireplace. As he walked into the room, Ford looked in his direction. Seeing the thin, glimmering lines on Ford’s cheeks, Will understood he was crying.

     “Oh,” Ford said, lifting his glasses to clean his tears. “Hello, Will. I—” he inhaled in sharp breaths, struggling to speak. Will had placed the flower on a vanity cabinet near the door and now sat next to Ford, observing him closely.

     Will reached behind Ford’s neck and pulled him close to his chest, a behavior he had observed from a pair of children living in a shack in the forest. Ford quickly responded, “Will,” a sharp breath, “what are you doing?”

     "Hugging…you,” Will answered, “is this not...what humans do to comfort others that are sad?”

     After a moment, Ford spoke. “I’m fine, it’s just—” but the sharp breaths had returned, now more agitated, and he struggled to speak once again.

     “You don’t have to explain,” Will said, calmly, hoping his action could soothe Ford in his sadness.

     Ford had shifted his body closer to Will, holding him an embrace that Will copied afterwards. Moments passed, and his breathing had eased. His heart-beat had slowed, and Will noticed Ford had fallen asleep in his arms.

     Will was able to safely move him to the bed, and there Ford lay, in peaceful slumber. Something had fallen out of Ford’s hand, a photograph. The image was cut and seared at the edges; two children stood on a broken boat with a ripped sail. It was by the sea shore, at sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience, guys, and thank you to cirilee and jenniwrenn on Tumblr for all your support and help with this chapter. Love you!<3


	4. The Performance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is slight gore and body horror in this chapter.  
> ~~~~~~  
> Special thanks to the awesome cosplayers jenniwrenn and deatharising on Tumblr for all your love and support and your beautiful video based on one of the scenes from chapter 3 (still cant deal with my feels). You both are an inspiration. :D

[This is the video, in case you were wondering :3 (you should totally watch it) ](http://deatharising.tumblr.com/post/144754191443/reverse-falls-we-have-fallen-in-love-with-this-au)

 

 

   ~ • ~  

     Ford had woken up in a daze. He could not remember exactly when he had fallen asleep or how he had ended up on the bed. He tried to recall the events of last night. He remembered being drowsy, exhausted. Crying, then he jolted up.

     “The photograph!” and he felt panic as he searched for his glasses. He exhaled a breath of relief as he found the photograph, set neatly on the night table, next to his glasses.

     When he reached for the photograph, he found a folded piece of white parchment paper. It was addressed to him, written in beautiful, delicate cursive. It read:

          _“Dear Ford,_

_I would like to inform you that I will be away all of the morning, into the late afternoon._

_I am sorry to say that because of the great distance, I will not be able to leave a double of myself to attend you. However,_

_I will be back in the evening._

_I apologize greatly for this inconvenience._

_Respectfully, Will Cipher”_

     He remembered the night before and felt a single heart-beat hit forcefully against the inside of his chest. Will’s act had helped him through his moment of sadness. He had not been able to appreciate the intimacy of the embrace until now. It was the closest they had ever been to one another. Ford felt his cheeks flush as he realized that he yearned for them to be close again.

 

_———_

     There was mostly silence in the darkness, except for a few murmurs scattered around.

     The murmurs ceased at the sounds of drums, trumpets and other instruments that blended together in a festive tune. The drum’s rhythm quickened and steadied to an exciting beat. In an instant, the music stopped. A spotlight shined in the center, upon a young girl, with a microphone in one hand and a baton in the other, standing grandly in the arena.

     “Hello and good day to you all. Welcome to ‘Shooting Star and Star Catcher’s Marvelous Tent of Wonder,’ and thank you for joining us for our last performance of the season.” The audience could see that she was no more than twelve, but the power in her voice demanded respect of all who were present.

     The audience listened expectantly. “I am Mabel Pines, Mistress of Ceremonies,” She twirled her baton, then used it to point at the audience, “and you will be in my care for the next few hours. Please make yourselves comfortable and let the show begin!”

     And so the performers burst through the curtains in a coordinated parade, showcasing bits and pieces of their talents that would be fully revealed later on in their respective acts. The audience started noticing that some of these performers were very young. The teenager, Wendy, was an expert in pyrotechnics. Grenda, though her age could not be easily determined, seemed fairly young and showcased extreme feats of strength. Candy, a tightrope walker, appeared to be as young as the Mistress of Ceremonies.

     The show began in light humor, but it wasn't long until the acts began to turn much more brutal. Each act raised the stakes, and the audience grew tense. Soon, there was a heavy silence throughout the blue tented arena. Lights on the floor pulsated on and off as they waited for the next performance to start.

     The audience could not see clearly, just moving shapes. One of these shapes climbed one of the twin ladders that stood at each corner of the performance platform. They were almost as tall as the tent that covered the immense arena. A familiar shape stepped out of the heavy blue curtains that separated front stage and back stage; a bright spotlight followed her.

     “And now, for our next performance… Candy Chiu at the tightrope.” Another spotlight shone on the figure on the platform atop the ladder. She stood in an arabesque pose, then smiled and bowed to the crowd. The sound of applause swept across the arena. Her hair tied perfectly in an updo; the dress she wore had a tightly laced top; the skirt puffed out with a petticoat underneath. All of which matched the parasol she held carefully in her left hand.

     The Mistress of Ceremonies spoke when the applause resided, “our talented Candy will delight us with a performance that, I promise, you will not soon forget.”

     The drums started, in a rapid, steady beat. The performer began walking the rope at a slow pace, moving her arms slightly to keep her balance.

     “May I remind you, folks, that there is no net to catch her. She relies on skill alone.”

     There were scattered murmurs throughout the crowd, but they went silent quickly. Most of them sat tense, clutching at their snacks and drinks. The blue lights continued to pulsate, and her steps would come in and out of sync with them.

     She took a step. Pulse. She took another, balancing herself. She was almost there. The rope quivered again, aggressively. Pulse. She struggled to keep balance. Her body bent. Her arms flailed. The parasol hit the ground before she did.

     A single, horrified shriek broke the silence. The crowd was slowly coming out of shock and reacting to the sight.

     A sea of blood pooled around the carnage on the floor. The metal shaft of the parasol had impaled her across the back, though that injury seemed minor compared to the mess of broken limbs. Her body sprawled gruesomely, hair covering most of her face, but her eyes were open, still.

     The Mistress of Ceremonies rushed to speak, frantically comforting the crowd in an effort to control it. The lights had been turned off; now both the spotlights shone upon the curtains as a young boy stepped out.

     The audience’s eyes were on him as he stepped calmly at the edge of the scene. He said a few words, an incantation. Small, lilac flames appeared in his hands. He lifted them and held them in direction of the corpse. The pool of blood was receding, returning to its source. There were scattered gasps around the arena. All went silent at the sound of bones creaking.

     A hand moved, then an arm. The body’s limbs rearranged, correcting themselves. A dislocated leg snapped together; the other followed. The body moved in sharp bursts and in sluggish, loud dragging. It was trying to stand up, and succeeding.

     The performer stood and faced the crowd, her face as pristine as it had been on the platform and without a single drop of blood on her dress. The parasol was back in her hand, beautiful and unbroken. She smiled and bowed.

     The crowd remained silent, for a moment. Suddenly, the crowd roared in delight. Their quickened heart-beats now returned to their normal pace. It had all been part of the performance.

     “You have all seen what The Sorcerer can do with magic, but that’s not all he can do. My brother is quite talented at dagger throwing.”

     The Sorcerer made a chest of daggers rise from the ground.

     “For our next act, I’ll leave the stage to my brother and his lovely assistant.”

     The curtains parted, and The Assistant emerged, walking with slow, steady steps, allowing a graceful slide of a sparkling cape. The Assistant’s hair was a mesmerizing blue, framing their face and a shadowed, lined eye. They looked to the audience; a large portion of the crowd blushed at the mere sight of this new figure. It was a private, almost intimate gaze that one might share with a lover, and the audience had no problem imagining that.

     The cape came off with a small tug, revealing a body covered in pristine white lace. The Assistant took a bow. What the Mistress of Ceremonies had said had been lost, as the audience’s eyes trailed over the body of this blue haired figure.

     The Assistant stood in front of a long, wide, wooden wall that stood almost as tall as the canopy of the tent. It depicted a shooting star and a constellation over a background of black accented with blues and violets, the emblem of the travelling show.

     When the audience had shook of whatever trance they had gone into, The Sorcerer had thrown the first dagger.

     For every set of throws, the pillar each stood on grew taller, leaving the silhouette of the previous set of daggers intact on the wall. It was an exceptional show of skill from the child, but that was only half the performance.

     Crossed legs lied at the edge of the pillar. The Assistant’s back arched upward. Their head hung back, revealing a slender neck and a choker. The Assistant’s eyes were closed, delicate lips parted slightly. Their arms were behind them; shackled hands gripped the other edge of the pillar. Their body was still.

     Each pose had carried a similar sensuality that made the audience react as they had done before, thinking of what, behind closed doors, they could share with The Assistant.

     The daggers had drawn attention to every feature of The Assistant’s body. When they reached the neck, the choker had fallen to the ground, drifting as a petal might fall from flowers atop a tree. The act ended, and the audience burst into applause.

     The show continued in its previous, gruesome fashion. Blood was seen more than once again; then the show ended with a final goodbye from the performers. The audience left pleased and still feeling the last traces of adrenaline, slightly trembling and with wide eyes.

 

 

º º º

     Will and the children had returned back to the manor in the early evening. Stanford had greeted his niece and nephew lovingly.

     “We brought all the samples you wanted.” Mabel said, extending her arms to welcome Stanford into a hug. “If I didn’t know you loved us, I’d think you were just using us.” She laughed.

     “Of course not, my dear. Both of you mean the world to me.” Stanford responded sincerely. He laughed. “Come along; we can talk over tea and cookies.”

     They sat in an oak room, the most detailed and beautiful of all in the manor. Priceless paintings hung all around; the Victorian style furniture was padded and rimmed in gold. Mabel and Dipper shared a seat while Stanford sat alone, across from them. Will stood five paces away, holding a tray with a tea kettle and a plate of sweets, not taking part in the conversation.

     “…and how was your last performance?” Stanford asked.

     Mabel answered after a sip of her tea,“gathered up a big crowd. There were even people left standing. Their reactions were as hilarious as always.” She laughed. “The show isn’t perfect yet, so I’ll have to work the performers even harder for next time. Practice till they bleed.” She laughed again, then looked at Will. “Will and Dipper’s performance was amazing, though.”

     Stanford smiled and arched an eyebrow, “is that so?”

     Dipper, who sat with his arms crossed, chuckled and said, “you should have seen the audience, practically drooling over this piece of filth.”

     Mabel spoke, “aw, you’re just saying that because you li-”

     Dipper interrupted her before she could continue “Shut up, Mabel.” The loudness and anger in his voice had made Will jolt, but Mabel just poked her tongue out at him, giggling afterwards.

     Mabel signaled for Will to come forward, holding her empty tea cup in the other hand. There was something hidden in her smile. She sat at the farthest end of the chair. Will had to pass in front of Dipper to get to her.

     “Get the hell away from me!”

     Will had almost reached her, but saw everything turn sideways, heard porcelain shatter in pieces next to him.

     “Dipper, my tea,” Mabel said loudly, annoyance in her voice.

     Will had tripped and fallen at Stanford’s feet, and as he knew from previous experiences, it was wiser to stay down.

     Stanford spoke to Dipper with controlled anger,“child, I would appreciate it if you would not treat my servant so poorly.”

     Dipper answered flippantly, “then I suggest you keep your servant far away from me.”

     Stanford had raised his voice, “I _suggest_ ,” his voice returned to its normal volume, “you keep your little outbursts in check, nephew, before you exhaust my patience. I will not tolerate any more of this vile behavior.” After a long silence, Stanford let out a long breath.

     Dipper spoke with a sigh, “I apologize, Great Uncle Stanford.” He spoke calmly and sincerely, though it was evident he was still in a foul mood. “I meant no disrespect towards you.”

     “I accept your apology.” Stanford said. The tension in the room was clearing.

     “There’s only so much of your _pet_ I can take before I lose it. I don’t know how you tolerate full days…alone…with him.” Dipper teased. Mabel giggled, covering her mouth.

     “I can assure you he’s better company… in _private,_ ” Stanford said in the same teasing tone. Mabel had fallen back, laughing.

     “Hmph,” the sound had come from Dipper.

     Stanford laughed. “If he annoys you so, I assure you there is plenty of space to avoid him in the manor for the rest of the summer.”

     “But Great Uncle Stanford,” Mabel whined, “you promised we would go on a trip together after this season was over.”

     “I know I did, but with my research I-” Stanford paused, then spoke in a tone Will knew very well. “On second thought…we have all worked very hard. I think we deserve a break.”

     Dipper asked quickly “—and him?”

     Stanford answered, “He stays. I will make the arrangements. We leave in a few hours.”

     Mabel stepped towards Stanford and embraced him. “Thank you, Great Uncle Stanford. We love you.”

     “I love you too,” Stanford said. “Now, off you go. Get your things.”

     The children had left the room before Stanford had gotten up. He paid no attention to Will, who still lay at his feet. Stanford stood up, the dark fabric of his cape slightly trailing over Will as he left. When the footsteps had gone, Will pushed himself up on his hands. He stood over the mess of shattered porcelain on the floor. In silence, he realized how alone he really was.

 

~ • ~

     “You’re back,” Ford said after opening the door to his room. He smiled.

     “I am,” Will said, without meeting his eyes. “May I come in?”

     “Oh, of course," Ford said.

     Will walked by him and sat on the edge of the bed. Ford followed and sat beside him, being careful to leave a proper distance between them. Will looked worried…or sad. They sat in silence, and Ford had ended up staring, inevitably, at the shackles that were still on Will’s wrists.

     Will broke the silence, “I can take them off...if they distress you.” Will was observing him through a beautiful, lilac eye.

     Ford joined his eyebrows, and said, concerned, “but—Stanford—”

     The lilac shackles had immaterialized. “Stanford is not here…he is not in the manor.”

     There was another long silence. Neither of them looked at each other.

     Ford broke the silence, “thank you…for comforting me last night.”

     “You’re welcome,” Will said, “I placed your photograph on the night table.”

     “I saw it; thank you. It means a lot to me.” Ford smiled with sad eyes, bringing the picture close, showing it to Will. Will carefully held it by the left edge. Ford held the right and realized they were now closer than before.

     “That is you and your sibling in the photograph, yes?”

     “It is. We were inseparable when we were younger,” Ford exhaled, “Then things happened…and we sort of drifted apart.”

     Will drew his hand away, and said hastily, “oh, I’m sorry. I see that is a very sensitive topic.”

     “No, its fine.” Ford breathed, feeling a pain in his chest and the urge to say everything. “I hope you don’t mind…if I talk about it.”

     Will answered sweetly, “I’ll listen.”

     He told him everything, his childhood, his falling out with his brother, his anger and resentment, moving to Gravity Falls. He told him about meeting Bill, the lies and betrayal. He told him about his brother, their fight, and his heart ached. He talked until he could no longer feel the heaviness in his chest, and Will listened to all of it. Then it was Ford’s turn to listen.

     Will’s voice was almost a whisper. “We may have more in common than you think…Yesterday—when I said that I couldn’t break the contract…Stanford was very kind to me when we first met. He gave me a physical form. He was my friend.” There was a pause. “As part of the contract, I agreed that…my powers would be entirely transmitted to him over a length of time. We agreed it would be unbreakable. I did not know his real intentions at the time.”

     Ford asked without thinking, “couldn’t you see his thoughts when you went into his mind?”

     Will answered, “Stanford has never let me.” There was a pause. “He also wants to bridge my dimension with his…and he needs my help, but I haven’t told him everything.”

     Ford remembered Stanford’s words when he first came through the portal, _‘still not the right dimension’_ Ford said, “he doesn’t know the coordinates.”

     Will took a moment to answer. “He doesn’t, and if I told him—when I no longer have my powers…he would discard me.” He was scared

     “It won’t come to that.” Ford had placed a hand on one of Will’s. He could feel Will’s hand trembling. He held his gaze and said, gently, “I will find how to get back to my dimension, and when I do…you could come with me.”


	5. Fascination

     “I could go with you?” Will’s question had sounded more like a request.

     The way in which Will looked at him now had stricken Ford a blow, leaving him almost breathless. This pleading look of sadness and hope had awoken in Ford a desperate urge to protect him.

     “Yes,” Ford answered immediately, “I can’t promise many commodities, but…you’ll be safe.” Ford saw that last word reflect in Will’s eye; it made his heart ache. “Will you come with me?” Ford’s words sounded exactly how Will had spoken, with that hint of supplication.

     Will turned his head to the side, firming his gaze on the floor. “No…I don’t want to be a burden.”

     Ford spoke with reassurance. “You wouldn’t be a burden.”

     “I would lose my powers soon after I went, and then I would not be of any use to you.”

     “Of use?” Ford said, incredulously. “Will, that’s not why I asked.”

     “Then why?” Will had lifted his gaze to meet Ford’s eyes. Ford saw Will’s disbelief and genuine search for understanding.

     “Because I want to help you, because I—” _love you_ ; Ford had almost said it, “because I care about you.”

     “You care…” After a moment, Will’s eye widened. “…I- I don’t—” Ford could see Will struggling to speak and felt his hand trembling.

     “It’s alright, Will,” Ford rushed to speak. “You don’t have to decide right away.”

     “Thank you.” It was a whisper. The trembling had ended. Both of them stayed quiet, still, except for the rise and fall of Ford’s chest as he breathed. Then Will’s hand, still under Ford’s, moved once, in one slow motion, to uncurl its fingers. “Regardless of my decision, I—” There was a pause. “I want to help you find your way home. I may not be able to do much, but I’ll help with what I can and with what you let me.” There was a glimmer in Will’s eye. “I want you to be safe.” Will had spoken in a soft, sweet voice that had made Ford’s heart flutter and his cheeks flush.

     “For you to help would be wonderful. Thank you.” Ford laughed nervously. Will had brought his curled fingers to gently trail over Ford’s reddened cheeks. Ford had inched back in a rough motion, removing his own hand that had, until now, remained over Will’s.

     Will inched backwards, in response to Ford. "I’m sorry, I—”

     Ford shook his head, interrupting Will, “no, no, It’s ok. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.” Another nervous laugh.

     Will looked at Ford curiously, then stood up. “I think it’s time for me to go.” Will bowed. “Good night, Ford.”

     “Good night,” and Will had left. Ford let himself fall back on the bed. He looked at the red fabric of the canopy for a moment, then brought a hand to his forehead, covering most of his eyes as well, then sighed.

 

 

º º º

     Wherever he was, Ford could not recognize it. A thick fog hung to, what he could guess, were the dark, murky waters of a swamp. He tried to move and felt a heavy tug at his feet. He could only move one foot at a time, struggling with each step and hearing the nauseating, sludge-like fall of the water.

     He tried looking around, but could only see dark shapes; the word “decay” came to mind. Ford could hear muffled voices and whispers changing proximity. He felt fear, panic and danger. Immediate danger. Some of the fog had risen, clouding his vision even more, eerie and a deep mustard color. A loud, intermittent noise of static made Ford stop in his tracks to frantically look around, and when it stopped, he found he could no longer move.

     Ford could hear a racing heartbeat. He pulled at his legs and felt the texture of rotting flesh. Whatever held him gripped him tighter, even as he pulled again. Ford heard movement in the water. He wanted to scream, but couldn’t. He heard the heartbeat race and then sharp, troubled breathing. A laugh, loud, piercing and unmistakable.

     It came from all directions. Ford tried desperately to move, but couldn’t. He felt movement in the water and heard loud, splashing steps approach him, first in the distance, then closer, approaching from the left, then distant again, approaching from the right. The steps were louder, closer, approaching from behind. He felt a touch on his shoulder.

     It shook him awake, but fear and panic held him fiercely. He moved rapidly and unconsciously. With every ounce of strength, he laid hands on the attacker, gripping forcefully at the hand and neck.

     He heard a voice call out to him, but it could not pierce through the terror that held him. He was panting, breathless. His eyes could not focus. He gripped tighter. The voice called out to him once more. Ford recognized his own name being called. He could hear his own forceful heartbeat and then heard it fade away.

     The voice called again, this time clearer. As he regained his breath, he came to recognize the hazy figure before him, piercing blue and lilac.

     Will called out to him. Every muscle in Ford’s body had become tense to the point of shaking. He could not breathe. He forced his shaking hands to release their grip; they moved slowly, almost mechanically, one finger at a time.

     He saw the hazy image of Will reach for something on the night table, and then he saw Will bring it to his eyes. Now Ford could see clearly. Will held Ford’s gaze, and in his eyes Ford could not see fear.

     Will spoke with concern. “Ford, it’s me, Will. Are you alright?”

     Ford tried to speak, but only managed to say a single word, ‘Bill’.

     Will came closer. He put his hands over Ford’s for a moment, then brought them to Ford’s shoulders, pulling Ford into an embrace. Will spoke words of comfort and softly trailed a hand through Ford’s hair. Ford could breathe now, but he could not bring himself to return the embrace.

     He felt a knot in his throat. If Will had truly been human, Ford could have come close to killing him, and here he was, not afraid, not at all worried about himself, asking Ford if he was alright. A suffocating sense of guilt made Ford gasp for air, and he felt Will hug him tighter. Ford thought of the horrors Will must have gone through to have him react this way. Will was not fazed. Will had not stopped Ford, though he could have. Ford had promised Will safety, had wanted to protect him, and had just betrayed himself and betrayed Will, yet Will was here, holding him tightly, comforting him as if Ford had been the victim. Ford wanted to cry, but could not shed a single tear.

     “I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” Ford’s voice was hoarse, and his words were pleading.

     Will shushed him. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it.”

     Ford parted himself from Will, looking at him with a serious gaze. His words were firm and angry, though not at all loud. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t let me do it again. Don’t let me do that to you.”

     Will gazed back at him, adopting the same serious demeanor, though he could not express anger. “Ford, you can’t hurt me.”

     “Still. Promise me you will stop me if something similar ever happens again. Promise me, Will.”

     Will’s gaze was softer, “I promise. I will be more…aware from now on.”

 

 

º º º

     It was the late morning; the light seeping through the curtains was brighter today. Ford could see the details of the room more clearly. The two of them sat in silence for a very long time. In silence, Ford found space to think and was able to find calm. Will no longer embraced him, but his presence was still comforting.

     Once Ford had been able to partly put aside what happened, he could appreciate their closeness, the softness in Will’s eye. Beautiful lilac. The air was cleared of tension, though a certain bitter-sweetness remained. Ford breathed with a sigh, and Will had noticed because now he looked at Ford intently.

     “The table is set up. Are you hungry?” Will said, and Ford’s stomach rumbled in response. Ford’s cheeks reddened. “I will take that as a yes; come with me.” Will had stood up, looking at him curiously, and extended both his hands for Ford to take them. Ford placed his hands on Will’s, but not without some hesitation. Will pulled gently for Ford to stand up and led him to the chair at the table.

     The tableware laid out was elegant, echoing the Victorian theme of the manor. Gold rimmed plates and cups depicted beautifully painted orchids over a light blue background. At the center was a small, blue vase with an arrangement of newly bloomed pink orchids. The vase lightly reflected the moving flames of the fireplace. The table cloth was of white lace, expertly needled in small flowers and geometrical patterns.

     Will stood by as Ford ate and was observing him curiously. Ford did his best not to let his eyes wander over Will, but it was inevitable. Each time he was met with Will’s gaze and had to quickly avert his eyes to look at a flower or a gold rim, trying to act as if nothing had happened, but the flush in his cheeks exposed him. It was all a bit awkward.

     Once the two of them had cleared the table, Will said, “I would like to ask a question, if I may.”

     “Of course, what is it?”

     Will looked at Ford and stepped closer to him, to a point there was almost no space between them. “Why does your face do that?”

     “My face?” Ford took a step back. “I- I’m afraid I’m not following,” he let out a nervous laugh.

     Will looked at him curiously. “Why do your cheeks redden?”

     “Well, uh—” Ford coughed intently, adjusting his glasses and trying to seem calm, “it’s an involuntary response to…peculiar feelings and social situations. Like embarrassment caused by...unwanted attention to having a misstep. The response can also be triggered by being attracted to someone, a strong emotion or something as simple as being given a compliment.”

     “I see. I had accounted for each of those possibly being a cause except for one. I understand now. Thank you.” Will turned, walking to the door of the room.

     “Was it embarrassment?” Ford smiled nervously.

     “No,” Will said matter-of-factly, tilting his head. “It was attraction.”

 

 ~ ~ ~

     “Well, you walked right into that one.” Stan said, interrupting his brother “And what did you answer?”

     “I didn’t.” Ford said, joining his eyebrows.

     “No, no, no,” Stan said with exaggerated disappointment, “you gotta’ own it. Crack a joke and be smooth, like your bro.” Stan half smiled and pointed at himself with both of his thumbs.

     Ford crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and I assume it was your,” Ford made quotation marks with his fingers, “smooth joke’ that caused that barmaid to pour a drink over your head.”

     “Hey!” Stan waved his index finger at Ford, “It’s worked every other time, hasn’t it?” and then Stan thought about it for a moment. Before Ford could speak, he said, “wait. Don’t answer that.”

     “Anyways,” Ford continued with his story, “We spent most of the day touring around the manor…” And Ford followed by telling Stan about the history of the manor, describing the rooms, the paintings, the décor, and each time Ford mentioned Will’s name he would smile. Stan couldn’t help but cross his arms and grin. Ford noticed and said, “Stop looking at me like that!”

     “You loved him by then, didn’t you?” Stan said, nodding, still grinning. Ford’s cheeks reddened at the question, and Stan could see from the hopeless look is Ford’s eyes, that the answer was yes.

 

~ • ~

     “There are two places left to see, but I want to show you this one first,” Will said, placing a hand on the golden doorknob of a carved, oak door. “This will be your study room.” Will opened the door, and Ford stepped inside to see a beautiful room, the walls a seamless combination of red oak and rose patterned wallpaper. There was a large, wooden desk on the left side of the room, and the right wall was covered in book cases. There were two chairs and small table with a chess board on top of it, covered in a layer of dust. The last match played was still preserved on the board. By the amount of pieces each player had captured, it had been a close call, but the black pieces had won. Ford could see Will looking at him curiously.

     “Would you like to play?” Will had placed a hand on one of the chairs by the table. Despite all the bad memories of Bill it brought, seeing the excited look in Will’s eye, Ford did not have the heart to refuse. By the time Ford had blinked, the chess board and its pieces had been dusted off, and set in proper order for the start of the game.

     Ford sat down in front of Will, and Will said, “You move first.” Then it hit him, Ford did not know how to play chess correctly.

     Although chess had been very popular during his college years, he had never been too interested in chess, and because of it, he never learned how to play it. His mind was occupied with other things, and when he did have a small amount of time to relax, he would play Dungeons, Dungeons and More dungeons. From what he had observed in the multiverse, Ford had come to the conclusion that the way he had learned to play from Bill was incorrect, but never stuck around to know why.

     Now he was here, his hand hovering over his pieces, trying to figure out which piece to start with. Ford saw Will’s hand extent towards him and looked up to meet his gaze.

     Will spoke kindly, “It’s alright. You start with either a pawn or a knight…” And so Will continued to explain patiently and sweetly how each piece moved, how each piece captured, how to achieve a check, and a checkmate. Once Ford had understood, he moved his first piece.

     It was a pawn, first in line from left to right, one square in front of it. Ford thought it would be best to start with that one, as it was furthest from the king. Will moved the pawn in front of his king two squares to the front. As a second move, Ford moved his knight piece two squares to the front and one to the right, in the form of an ‘L’ that Will had taught him. He asked Will if it was correct, and Will reassured him. In the next two turns, Ford had moved his knight piece again and another pawn, but now he was hesitating. Will had placed a knight on a square where one of his pawns could capture it, and it seemed very suspicious. Ford did not trust it at all, thought it was a distraction, and he moved another pawn piece confident he had avoided a trap.

     “Checkmate.” In only five moves, Will had won the match. The second pawn Ford had moved had left a space, in which Will could place a bishop, a direct line to the king, and since Ford had not moved any of the internal pieces, the king piece could not move to avoid it. Ford looked up at Will, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

     “I guess I need a bit more practice, don’t I?” Ford said with nervous laughter.

 

 

º º º

     They played until sundown, and with every match, Ford won a bit more confidence. It was starting to become fun. Ford tried to anticipate Will’s next move, but Will was unpredictable. Every time Ford thought he had a chance of winning, Will would win, and then Ford would analyze every move and realize Will had everything figured out from the very beginning.

     “Checkmate,” Will said sweetly.

      “Once again,” Ford laughed, “I keep trying to change my approach, but you outsmart me.”

     “You did manage to capture a few of my pieces, this time, and two in the last one.”

     “I did,” Ford squinted his eyes, smiling, “but I’m starting to think most of those were lain out as a distraction.”

     Will blinked, “they were.”

     “Has anyone ever managed to win a match against you?”

     “Yes, the person who taught me.” There was a moment of silence. Will spoke again, “Ford, could I ask something of you?” Ford nodded in response; Will continued. “A long time ago, Stanford had promised—” Will quickly rephrased his request. “Ford, could you teach me…how to waltz?”

     “I could try. Let’s see,” Ford paused to think for a moment. “I believe I learned it a few dimensions ago. Natives used dance as a way to communicate. Always was a bit tricky speaking with them; one wrong step and you could cause an uproar. But, anyway, we might want to make a bit of space in the room, move some furniture, and—”

     “I may know of a better place.” Will had moved closer to one of bookcases on the furthest wall, and with a snap of his fingers, a passage had opened to a new area.

     The library was breathtaking, rows and rows of occupied bookshelves, all made of the same carved, red oak. It was two stories tall, and Ford stood on the upper floor of it, with tall, broad windows with ivory colored arches, reaching the ceiling covered in detailed paintings of constellations. Ford’s gaze followed the paintings to the part where the roof turned into a dome and from there, to the grand, bronze telescope standing on a column, downwards to the base of the column on the first floor. Ford followed Will down a spiral staircase, in awe of it all.

     The first floor only had a few pieces of furniture, which looked comfortable enough to sit and read on them for hours on end in the warmth of the grand fireplace. Ford’s attention was called to Will, at the sound of music emitted from a record player. It was a slow paced waltz played by violins and an accordion, amongst other instruments.

     Ford smiled to Will, who had come to his side, and demonstrated the steps he should follow, teaching him with the same kindness and patience Will had shown him earlier in the light of chess. Will was a fast learner, and when Ford saw Will could dance the steps on his own, he offered his hand and led Will to the center of the room, to a spot of light on the floor. He bowed, and Will curtsied. Ford felt a hand on the back of his shoulder as he placed a hand on Will’s back. Ford’s left hand held Will’s right, and Ford felt a single, forceful heartbeat against the inside of his chest at the sight of Will’s gaze and the fall of his lashes. They both took their first step.

     They danced in circles around the inside of the room. The second story windows allowed for a beautiful pattern of shadows and moonlight to be cast on the dark, wooden floors, which they could dance upon. Their first steps were hesitant, but soon they were able to move synchronized to the slow rhythm of the waltz. Every so often Ford would introduce a new step, like a jump or a glide, this time, a twirl.

     Ford moved his arm upwards and in a circular motion, leading Will into the twirl, which Will followed without a problem. Ford was a bit surprised when he saw Will extend his arm upwards, intending to lead Ford into a twirl. Ford could not help but smile and follow along, though he had to bend his knees just a bit to be able to do it. The space they had between each other had now closed, and their steps had slowed. Ford found himself lost in the lyrics of the instrumental waltz, now turned into song.

 _“It was fascination,_ _I know_

_Seeing you alone with the moonlight above…”_

     His eyes could not stray from Will’s gaze. Rays of moonlight shone upon them. They had stopped dancing.

_“Then I touched your hand , and next moment I kissed you_

_Fascination turned to love.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the beautiful jenniwrenn for editing :3
> 
> The song the lyrics are from is called "Fascination;" the music was composed by F. D. Marchetti (1904), the lyrics written by Dick Manning (1932). The version Ford and Will danced to is sung by Jane Morgan (1957).


	6. Forget-Me-Not

_———_

     The singer’s voice faded, and with it the violins and instruments of the waltz. They had stopped dancing and now were closer than before. Ford had leaned in, placing his lips upon Will’s, and Will had allowed him to do so.

     Will closed his eyes. He did not understand what the act meant, what human emotion could have driven it. He could not physically feel it, but he knew by the intimacy of it, that it was an act of trust…and something else he could not comprehend, though he yearned to.

     Despite not understanding, Will treasured how safe he felt in Ford’s embrace, treasured the trust it seemed they shared. The moment felt longer than it was, and now Ford had hurriedly made distance between them, leaving Will a bit disoriented.

     Will could only see a glimpse of Ford’s face, faintly illuminated by moonlight. His eyes were wide, and he held a hand over his mouth. Will tried to speak, but he too was at loss of words, confused, overwhelmed. Ford stepped back.

 ~ ~ ~

     “And you just walked away?” Stan asked his brother.

     Ford had his head buried in his hands. “I didn’t know what to do; I- I didn’t know what to say.” He breathed unevenly. “I took advantage of him, and then I ran away like a coward.”

     Stan exhaled loudly, “well, we all make mistakes, bro.”

     “That…would be putting it lightly.” The tone with which Ford said that had run chills down Stan’s spine. He sounded like a man admitting defeat, guilty and remorseful, and Ford’s words somehow felt like they were aimed at something else.

     Ford stood up, and Stan could see the sadness in his eyes. Stan saw Ford step down into the cabin of the ship, and just as Stan was getting up to go comfort him, Ford had come back, his hand pressed close to his chest. He held a book with him, and after looking at it for a moment, he handed it to Stan.

     The cover of it was etched, red leather displaying patterns of flowers, and when he opened it, he recognized his brother’s writing.

 

~ • ~

     Ford opened his eyes to a sideways view of his study room. He realized he was on the floor, with his head on one of the small pillows of the arm chair. Fatigue caused by sleepless nights spent researching and making calculations had finally caught up to him. He simply did not have the energy he had when he was younger.

     As he got up, he could once again feel the throbbing headache that had been pestering him for some days now. He pressed his fingers to his temples. Most of his body hurt, neck and back worst of all. His eyes were tired, and he could feel each time he blinked. Ford’s eyes focused, and he could see the mess of papers scattered around the room. He noticed the passage to the library was open and had to clumsily step over the papers to reach the frame of the entryway.

     With a hand on the glass of the nearest window, peacefully observing the clouds passing, was Will. Ford was silent, his jaw, tense. The last few days had been very awkward for Ford. He was very careful and hesitant when Will was near, helping him with his work. Ford made sure to keep a distance from him and only speak to him when he need to.

     Will, on the other hand, seemed more comfortable around Ford. His posture was more relaxed. He spoke with more freedom about his thoughts and curiosities, yet the topic of the kiss had remained unspoken by both of them.

     “Hello, Ford,” Will said sweetly, turning away from the window to face him.

     “How long have I been asleep?” Ford’s head throbbed as he tried to remember at what point he might have.

     “Only for a few hours.”

     “Well,” Ford yawned, “I’ll get back to work now.” He stretched and turned to walk back into his room.

     “No, you won’t.”

     “What?” What Will said had caught him off-guard.

     Will seemed surprised at his own words, but he continued. “You will not get back to work. You need rest.” He sounded more determined, now. “You are going to step away from it so that you can come back to it with a clearer and more focused mind.”

     “Should I go back to sleep, then?” Ford was confused, though he felt happy Will had the confidence now to say that.

     “No, that would make it harder for me to fix your sleeping schedule,” He quickly added, raising his index finger, “and you will go to sleep at an adequate hour tonight, and no more sleeping on the floor.”

     Ford’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He had not been scolded like that in years. “Alright, then, what do you suggest I do?”

     Will blinked. “We can go for a walk in the forest. The fog has cleared out by now.”

     “Perfect.” Ford felt a small amount of energy return to him. “Then I’ll have a chance to properly observe the flora and fauna of this dimension. I might even find some additions for my journal.” As he spoke he had started following Will down the spiral staircase, but Will had stopped and now looked up at him.

     “Well, if you intend on writing on your journal, you might want to bring it with you.”

     “Oh, right,” Ford said as he quickly stepped up the stairs and into to his study room.

     It took him a while to find his journal among the chaos, but he finally found it under a pile of papers in one of the furthest corners of the room.

     “A pen as well,” Ford heard Will say just as he was turning to walk towards the entryway.

     “Thank you,” Ford said in response.

 

 

º º º

     Will had led Ford to the forest, through steps carved to the side of the hill the manor stood upon. They came to a gateway, lying undisturbed for so long that vegetation had begun to grow on it. Will had opened gates without a problem.

     They walked side by side. A canopy of tree branches shielded them from the afternoon sun. The passageway seemed endless. They both walked slowly in peaceful, casual conversation. Ford was doing most of the talking, although Will didn't seem to mind.

     When they reached a clearing, Ford found himself still, quietly observing and enjoying the scenery. The forest seemed equal parts foreign and familiar. His stillness did not last for long, as soon Ford was met with the very oddities he was looking for. Most were the same as the ones Ford could find in his own parallel Earth, but others had at least one aspect that set them apart, like differing skin patterns or behaviors, among others. Some of these oddities, he had never seen before. Perhaps because they were unique to this dimension, or perhaps Ford had not paid close enough attention.

     Ford could not stop smiling. It had been the longest time since he could truly enjoy observing the strange and unexplained mysteries of a place without worries, aside from the occasional bite or sting. Will’s company made him happy as well. Will stood on the sidelines most of the time, though he did help Ford spot some of the creatures in hiding. Ford was glad Will could get a change of scenery from the dark rooms and corridors of the manor.

     Soon they came upon a stream. Water cascaded rapidly down a mound of rocks, and Ford decided they should follow the current downwards. The waters were shallow, bordered with moss covered rocks, which upon closer inspection seemed rather odd.

     The moss seemed to be moving; small flower buds on the surface of it would open and close in a pattern. Ford and Will sat close to the edge of the stream to observe them. The moss stopped moving entirely, but moments after, both of them were approached by small groups of the creatures. As Ford observed, they seemed a bit hesitant to come close to Will at first, though after a moment the creatures made themselves comfortable by sitting on their legs or climbing their arms to sit on their shoulders. One had sat on Will’s hand, and he held it out to Ford so that he could draw it.

 _“Moss Buds,”_ the new journal entry read.

_“Small, green forest sprites found on the surface of trees and rocks. They travel in herds and are able to camouflage into their surroundings thanks to an appendage of moss atop their heads._

_OBSERVED BEHAVIORS: Playful and not at all hostile. These creatures seem to thrive on teamwork and communicate through elaborate handshakes and by opening and closing a series of small flower buds on their heads._

_By far the most pleasant of creatures I’ve encountered in this dimension,”_ but Ford had crossed that sentence out almost as fast as he had written it.

     Ford looked up from his journal to see Will sitting in a relaxed posture, quiet and curiously observing the creatures. His small movements were elegant, and there was such kindness in his face. His subtle glow, him being surrounded by the sprites, sitting by the peaceful stream of water made him look like a spirit, a hauntingly beautiful apparition. It was breathtaking. Ford smiled, and at that moment Will raised his eye to him.

     “Did you finish the drawing?” Will asked, kindness in his voice.

     Ford shook his head for a moment and cleared his throat, “Yes, I did,” and Ford watched Will carefully set the small sprite on the ground.

     “Can I see it?"

     “Yes, of course,” Ford said and placed the journal in the space in front of them.

     Will leaned in to look closely at the open page. “It’s beautiful.”

     Ford’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you.”

     Will bowed his head, and then his attention was taken by a group of small flowers growing on the other side of the stream. They were flowers Ford recognized, though they seemed just a small bit different. Ford stood up and took off his shoes and socks to step into the shallow stream. The flowers were violet colored, and the small veins on the petals had an unusual pattern for this kind of flower, another oddity of this dimension.

     “Those are not sentient,” He heard Will say, and in his voice Ford could hear he was a bit confused.

     Ford laughed. “They may not be sentient, but they are still lovely to look at.” Carefully, Ford picked a few of these flowers and brought them to Will. “I’m not sure what these may be called in this dimension, but we call them forget-me-nots. They mean many things, but in most cases they symbolize love and remembrance.” Ford paused. “Here,” He said, handing them to Will.

     “Thank you,” Will said, receiving them in the palm of his hand. He covered the flowers with his other hand, and when he lifted it, Ford could see the small flowers were now encased in a delicate glass dome, attached to a thin, gold, chain-link necklace he now secured around his neck.

     Ford smiled, and they both continued talking, playfully interacting with the forest sprites. Their conversation went quiet for a moment, as suddenly they both heard distant voices. Ford stayed silent, trying to find the source of the voices.

     Two children were nearing the steam. A girl with long, blonde hair and colorful clothing walked carelessly in front of a white haired boy with more subtle looking clothing who walked with measured steps on top of the rocks. When she got to the other side, she seemed to be encouraging him to cross, cheering and jumping up and down, but the boy still walked hesitantly. Before he had reached the girl, the boy had fallen on the rocks and Ford heard him yelp in pain. When Ford and Will had reached them, the girl was already at the boy’s side.

     “Are you two alright?” Ford asked.

     The girl answered, “I’m alright, but he scratched his knee up pretty bad.” The worry in her face was apparent.

     “I can help,” Will said, kneeling to the boy’s side, hovering a hand over his knee, and in just a few moments the wound had been healed. Will helped the boy stand up.

     The children were astonished, and Ford heard the boy whisper “it’s the assistant” to the girl. They both stood with widened eyes, seeming a bit intimidated by Will.

     Breaking the silence, Ford introduced himself. “My name is Stanford, but you can call me Ford, and you are?” but the children did not respond.

     “Gideon Gleeful and Pacifica Northwest,” Will said, “the Northwests own and manage a tourist trap about a mile that way.” Then he pointed behind himself.

Ford turned back to address the children, but before he had said a single word, Pacifica had gasped loudly.

     “Oh my gosh, what is that? It’s so cute.” She said excitedly, pointing at Ford’s shoulder.

     One of the forest spirits had tagged along with him. Ford laughed and carefully took it in his hand to show it to the kids. “I call them Moss Buds. Its ok; they don’t bite,” Ford joined his eyebrows, “at least I think they don’t.”

     It didn’t take too long before both kids had Ford answering a lengthy questionnaire about these creatures, and a few others they had seen, as Gideon took notes, which ended with Ford showing them and addressing every single entry in his new journal, not that he minded.

     The conversation had gone on long enough that Will had even served a light meal and some tea to them. The kids refrained from asking Will any questions about himself or his magic, but Ford could notice their immense curiosity in the side glances they would give him every once in a while.

     Ford had to end their conversation after eating, much to the kids’ disappointment. The sun was going to set soon, and it was time for them to go home.

     The four said their goodbyes and headed their separate ways. Ford and Will were able to reach the manor before it was too dark outside, but on the way back, Ford was silent. He kept thinking about moments in the day he might not have been careful enough with Will. Had he felt uncomfortable? Had he not felt safe? Has what happened after the dance been troubling him as much as it has been troubling Ford? Ford took a deep breath. It would soon be time to address it.

 

_———_

     Will sat still on a chair inside Ford’s room, in front of the dark drapes of the balcony entrance. Ford sat on a chair next to the fireplace, silently sketching away on the journal Will had given him. Will had been admiring Ford’s drawings in the journal only moments earlier, before Ford had asked him if he wanted to be drawn. Will had, of course, said yes.

     Ford looked so serious and concentrated that Will did not want to interrupt. Will had spent the longest time searching for the proper words and the right moment to ask Ford about what had happened between them after they had danced some days ago. He knew by Ford’s reaction that night that it was not something to be casually spoken about, and he wanted to give him time to think. He had decided that tonight he would ask, but felt a bit afraid to do so.

     Ford glanced up for a moment. “You can speak if you want to. I’m almost done.”

     Will hesitated, then said, “I have been thinking a lot about earlier today, the flowers. You said they meant and represented something. Love and remembrance,” he paused, “and I wonder if something similar was the reason or significance of what happened…after we danced.”

     “The kiss," Ford had gone still. He cleared his throat,"yes," he continued sketching.

     “The… _kiss_ ,” Will repeated the words, “I see.”

     “For humans,” Ford paused, speaking in a low voice, “a kiss is usually a physical expression of love.”

     “Did you mean it as so?”

     Ford exhaled loudly, closing the journal and setting it on the table next to him “I did. The sketch is finished.”

     “I understand now why I felt…incomplete.” Will said, small traces of sadness in his voice.

     “How so?” Ford asked in a soft voice.

     “I lack,” Will said, “the range of emotions humans have, and so cannot fully comprehend those I cannot feel.” He paused, rearranging his words, “during the kiss, I felt safe, and I felt trust, but it felt as though there was something missing. I could tell you were expressing something else that I…can’t.”

     “What can you feel?” Ford asked, meeting Will’s gaze.

     Will took a moment to think. “Fear, sadness, trust, hope, safety, by nature they are what my species can initially feel, and they are all I have been allowed to feel.”

     “Allowed to?” his words were sad.

     Will was hesitant to say it, “when a being such as myself makes a contract with a human, by example, and they are granted entryway into a person’s mind, they are given the opportunity to copy their employer’s emotions. I- I have not been given this opportunity.”

     “If you were given it,” Ford struggled to speak, “would you take it?”

     “Yes,” Will said with hopeless honesty, “I would.”

     Ford looked nervous. Will saw Ford’s hands were trembling, but he closed them into fists to his side. He took a large breath before walking towards Will, in slow, measured steps. He stood in front of Will, smiling with sad eyes.

     "What- What if," Ford paused for a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He continued, extending his hand "What if we made a deal?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to jenniwrenn for editing and skillfulstudio for brainstorming with me. <3  
> ~~~~~~  
> Sorry for the wait, guys! I had a convention to prepare for, a trip to see my family and some medical things I had to deal with, along with the start of my college term, so the last few months have been a bit hectic. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter :3


	7. My Foolish Heart

_ _ _

 _“What if we made a deal?”_ The words had stunned Will. He knew what Ford had gone through and knew the gravity of his words, what it would mean. Will didn’t understand. _Why is he doing this?_

     Will shook his head. “N- No, Ford. I know this hurts you.”

     Ford closed his eyes and exhaled, trying to control his broken breathing. He opened them, and although tense, he kept his hand extended towards Will. He seemed worried, but determined. “I trust you, Will.” He breathed. “Do you still trust me?”

     Will lowered his widened eyes to the ground and found himself trembling, fighting back the bitter memories of Stanford and those who had come before him. To have Ford to trust him this much, he was different from them. Ford cared about him. He stood up, having made up his mind. He walked with quiet, measured steps towards Ford and stopped at arm’s length from him.

     “I trust you,” Will said, though his words did not sound as confident as he intended them to sound. He heard Ford exhale, a strange mix of anxiety and relief.

     Will raised his own wavering hand and now saw it covered in the familiar lilac flame. He raised his eyes to Ford, who nodded, his jaw tense. Will took his hand.

     Will was startled at the sudden pull of gravity on his being. He felt his heart-beat grow faster, lungs pleading for air and small, cold beads of sweat trace lines down his face. He held himself together, in a panic, overwhelmed by both the reality and simultaneity of everything that was happening. Suddenly, he felt himself pulled away as a comforting voice spoke to him.

     “I’m here; you don’t need to be scared,” he breathed with a smile, “I want to show you something.”

     Will felt calmer now; his breathing eased. He heard an echo in his mind, and memories flooded in. He saw himself through Ford’s eyes. Emotions made the memories seem new to Will, even though he shared most of them with Ford.

     These memories he recognized as the most recent. Will felt longing, happiness, bitter-sweetness, many others and all were new to him. He saw their first kiss and through traces of guilt he felt…love.

     What he saw now were not memories of events that had happened, but rather thoughts and fragments of dreams. Embraces that had yet to happen, words that had yet to be spoken and now a single thought, a lingering image. Will could hardly recognize his own face. He saw himself smiling. He felt tears race down his cheeks as the stream of thoughts and memories halted.

     “Ford…”

 

~ • ~

     Ford could feel as he regained control of his body, and was stunned by a sudden embrace. He wrapped his arms around Will. They both stood in silence. There was no need for words. Ford felt a hand on his cheek and placed his own hand over it. He laughed softly and heard a soft laugh in reply. A beautiful sound, one that he would remember for the rest of his life; he met Will’s gaze. Will was smiling.

 

~ ~ ~

     “Ya’ risked your mind for ‘im?” Stan asked, lifting his eyes from the pages of the journal.

     “Yes, I- I suppose I did.” There was a certain desperation in Ford’s voice. “You probably think I’m an idiot…but he wanted to be able to feel, and how could I deny him that? To feel happiness…being loved?” Ford sighed. “You should have seen his smile.”

     “You are such a sap,” Stan said, following his words with bittersweet laughter. He knew exactly what Ford felt, a loving hopelessness.

     “I know.” Ford responded, burying his face in his hands, laughing along with him.

 

~ • ~

     It had been two days since then, two days that Will’s smiles and laughter had made Ford’s heart flutter. His face was absent of sadness, and he beamed with curiosity over the new emotions he felt, frequently asking Ford questions he didn’t really know how to answer, but he answered as best he could. Will had also turned to fiction, non-fiction and poetry, surrounding himself with towers and towers of books. He had gotten into the habit of reading some of it aloud, asking Ford’s opinion every once in a while.

     “Ford, listen to this one,” he heard Will say from a seat near the window.

     Ford lifted his eyes from the calculations on the desk, holding his chin on the palm of his curled hand.

     Will read to him, with a gentle smile,

_“During the day, over waters,_

_I will think of your gentle footsteps on sand._

 

_At night, beneath stars,_

_I will think of your fingers gently tracing distant constellations._

 

_In the cold, under rain,_

_I will think of comfort in your words, warmth in your breath._

 

_My love, when I am alone,_

_I will think of you.”_

     Will looked at Ford curiously. “What did you think?”

     “It’s beautiful.” Ford had found it hard not to lose himself in the passionate sweetness of Will’s voice.

     Ford saw him smile at his book. Then his expression changed to worry. Shyly, Will said “I hope I’m not bothering you too much with this.”

     “Oh, not at all, I love hearing you talk.” Ford’s cheeks reddened. The words had left his mouth without him thinking about it.

     Will laughed, sheepishly hiding his face behind his book. Ford had lowered his eyes back to his notes, and after a moment he heard Will speak again.

     “What do you think happened to them?” Will said.

     “Hmm?” Ford looked up at Will again, not understanding fully what Will meant.

     “The poet,” Will said, holding the book close to his chest, “do you think she found her love again?”

     Ford smiled, “I hope so.”

 

~ ~ ~

     While passing through the pages, Stan stopped, admiring the image he was certain was the portrait of Will. It was expertly drawn, with care and precision in every detail. He could tell it was first drawn in grayscale, but Ford had taken to carefully add soft accents of blue where appropriate. He passed the page; surprised by what he found, he tried his best to hide a grin. They were lines and stanzas of poetry written and crossed out.

     “Ford,” Stan couldn’t contain his grin. His words were somewhat patronizing, teasing his brother, “you wrote ‘im a poem?”

     Ford crossed his arms, averting his eyes from Stan “I…may have.”

     “Really?” Stan said, cringing with exaggerated embarrassment.

     “-but I didn’t give it to him that day,” Ford quickly added.

     “What?” Stan raised an eyebrow, “savin’ it for a date or something?” he said teasingly.

     “…something like that,” Ford coughed intently, “but that’s a story for another time. Now, where was I…”

 

~ • ~

     Ford and Will sat close to each other on one of the sofas on the first floor of the library, by the grand fireplace. It was the late afternoon, and both were consumed in their respective readings.

     Ford could see Will out of the corner of his eye, flipping back and forth through pages, closing his book and reopening it, with a look on his face Ford knew meant he lacked understanding of something.

     “Is something the matter, Will?” Ford said, closing his own book.

     Will took a moment to answer “What is it like to dream?”

     “I would have thought you knew more about that than I did,” Ford said, with a raised eyebrow.

     “I have entered other’s dreams,though only remained briefly,” Will said simply, “and never had dreams of my own.”

     “I see,” Ford took a moment to think, “Well, we humans don’t usually remember most of our dreams, sometimes we remember bits and pieces. Most of them follow a random course of events, so I can’t really give you a detailed description of one,” Ford paused, “sometimes we are spectators in our dreams, other times the protagonist. We may even know we are dreaming at times, though very rarely. Most are harmless, some can be joyful, but some can be too realistic and others, nightmares, can be born out of our deepest fears.”

     “Are you afraid of dreaming, Ford?” Will said, concerned.

     Ford smiled, “not anymore,” he could see Will did not exactly understand, “you could try falling asleep, if you’d like.”

     Will considered it, “will you be here when I wake up?”

     “Of course,” Ford assured him. He reached for a pillow and placed it in the small space between them. “Here,” Ford said and Will laid down in a slightly awkward movement. “Now, close your eyes,” and Will did so.

     Ford picked up his own book, moving as gently as possible, as to not disturb him.

 

 

º º º

     Will awoke with a widened eye, sitting up abruptly. Ford rushed to clear the space between them, both book and pillow were discarded on the floor.

     “Will, are you alright?” Ford asked worriedly, placing a hand on his back.

     Will was distraught, shaking. He blinked, focusing his gaze on Ford and turned to face him. “I- I think I had a nightmare.” His expression was sad.

     Ford exhaled, concerned. He pulled Will into an embrace, comforting him in the silence.

     After a moment, Ford saw the luminescence of Will’s body grow brighter, enough to force him to close his eyes. He felt Will’s grip tighten.

     “I understand now.” Will said, his face pressed to Ford’s chest.

     “What?” Ford said, still disoriented by the sudden light.

     “How important it is to be able to feel,” Will said.

     “But I thought you already…”

     “Not that kind of feeling.” Will said looking upwards at Ford, “this kind.” He raised a hand to Ford’s face, softly tracing the lines of his cheekbones. Ford’s cheeks flushed, and Will giggled.

     Ford blinked, “is that what the light was? You have a sensory system now?”

     “Yes,” Will said, “thank you for comforting me, Ford.”

     “Always here for you,” Ford answered. He was lost in Will’s gaze, in the gentle fall of his lashes, the kindness in his face. They were so close, inches away from each other.

     Something in the distance had caught Will’s eye. “What is it?” Ford asked, curious.

     Will said, smiling, "the sunset."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to jenniwrenn for editing and skillfulstudio for brainstorming with me. <3  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> May 30, 2017  
> Hello, lovelies! I should have made a note about lack of updates sooner. I apologize for that. In case you are wondering, the fic is NOT cancelled. I do plan to finish it and have the next chapters planned out. That being said, it will remain on hiatus for the time being. My University terms and life in general have been pretty hectic for the last few months, and I haven't really had much time to write. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you understand. Have a lovely day/night. <3


	8. Sunset

~ • ~

      There was soothing warmth in what remained of the low-lying sun. Will leaned slightly over crossed arms on the balcony railing, less than a pace’s length away from Ford. Silent, Will observed the gradients of colors and streams of light on the clear and cloud-covered segments of sky. His attention was then caught by the tree-canopy of the forest below and the persistent wind that moved it like ocean waves. A gust of it reached the balcony, swaying Will’s hair, and for a few moments Ford could see that both of Will’s eyes were closed, and he was smiling.

     When the gust had gone, each lock of luminous blue had fallen back into place, once again only revealing one of his eyes. Will now looked at him, showing slight concern.

     “Is everything alright?” he said, placing his hand over Ford’s on the railing.

     Ford’s eyes shifted to their hands then upwards at Will, “I…yes.”

     “Are you sure?” Will said with a squinted eye.

     “I’m fine,” Ford cleared his throat, “why do you ask?”

     Will blinked, then replied, “you hadn’t said a word since we came to your balcony.”

     “Oh, I see, I—” Ford said, embarrassed he had only been gazing at Will this entire time, “just— didn’t want to be a nuisance by distracting you…or interrupting your enjoyment of the sunset,” he gave a nervous smile, placing a hand on the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

     “It’s alright,” Will said, “and you could never be a nuisance.” He smiled, “I enjoy your company too much.”

     Ford could feel his cheeks redden and heard Will laugh softly in response. He couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. Soon, Will’s attention shifted back to the sunset, but Ford’s mind was occupied with something else. Will had left his hand over Ford’s on the railing.

     Ford felt nervous about what he should do. He focused on reassuring thoughts, searching for courage. Gently, Ford started to turn his hand under Will’s. He watched for Will’s reaction and any sign that he felt uncomfortable, relieved to find that Will, after a small look of surprise, moved closer to him.

     They held each other’s hand, shoulders touching and gazes forward to the radiance of the sunset.

     “I am happy to be able to share this moment with you,” Will said in a low, restful voice.

     Ford smiled, “I’m happy you’ve chosen to share it with me.”

     And after that they were quiet for a while, in joined tranquility. Then Ford saw once again the ocean-like movement of the forest crowns, but this time it had brought to him a memory of his family. The soft _“hmph”_ sound he had made when he sighed had attracted Will’s attention as he now looked upwards to him curiously. Ford met his eye for a moment and breathed with a smile before returning his gaze to the view over the mountains.

     “I remember,” Ford paused, “One day when my brother and I were nine years old, our mother woke us up at dawn. She smiled and shushed us, motioned us to follow her, and we did, though a bit confused. When we entered the hallway, in front of our parent’s bedroom where my father was still sleeping, she looked back at us before starting to tiptoe in—” he laughed lightly for a moment, “large exaggerated steps. We followed her lead, trying very hard not to laugh, but my brother inevitably couldn’t contain himself. Luckily our father was somewhat of a heavy sleeper. We reached the kitchen, and before long we were helping her make a breakfast casserole, still trying to be as quiet as possible.”

     Ford paused before continuing, “I don’t remember ever asking her why, just being excited, sure it was going to be a great day. Though, once she sent me to find our bottle of sunscreen, I knew what she was planning. Our father woke up shortly after the casserole was done, and I’m sure after eating his favorite breakfast it didn’t take Mother long to convince him to take us to one of the neighboring, nicer beaches.” Ford kept his eyes to the sky while he spoke, “we spent the whole day there, our parents at the shore and my brother and I in the water, pretending we were sea explorers. I even saw our father smile. We stayed after most of the people had gone and watched the sun set over the horizon.” He breathed, “I think it’s one of my happiest memories”

     He lowered his eyes to the railing and was quiet for a moment. “Will, when you make your decision,” Ford turned to face him, moving their hands from the railing, and said “if you chose to come with me,” he exhaled, “I would like to take you to watch the sunset by the sea.”

     Will smiled as he spoke, “you would take me there?”

     “Of course I would,” Ford said in a soft tone.

     Will made a small sound of contentment and let go of his hand only to embrace him. The movement had been sudden, though it did not take Ford long to react and return the embrace. He cherished it, to hold Will in his arms. But though they remained that way for a while, it would have to meet an end.

     Ford felt Will’s grip ease. Will had hesitantly let go of him, taking a step back, keeping his gaze from him.

     “Is something bothering you, Will?” He saw Will slightly open his mouth to say something, but then close it. “Please, tell me,” he said after a moment’s silence.

     Will now looked upwards at him, “can I ask you something…about the memories you showed me?”

     “Anything,” Ford said without delay.

     “When I saw them and felt what you had felt, you showed me our kiss,” despite the troubled tone in his voice there was a smile for just a moment, “and I felt your love,” he paused, “but I also felt…guilt. Why?”

     Now it was Ford who wordlessly averted his gaze, but knew he owed an answer. He felt a constricting weight fill his chest. “Because I—,” he had to take a breath, “because I took advantage of you, of your trust,” he met Will’s eye. “I knew fully well you couldn’t feel as I did,” he stopped, “but while we danced I stopped thinking for just a moment, and that was enough to cross the line. I let my guard down, and that was not fair to you.” Ford felt his nails dig into his palms, hands turned to fists. “Then I couldn’t face you for it. You deserve better than my cowardice,” a pained breath escaped him. “I’m sorry. I should have said all of this sooner.” There was quiet. “Now that you understand,” he struggled to speak again, “if you want me to leave your side I will do so.”

     Ford had taken an unconscious step back, but Will had immediately held on tightly to one of his wrists.

     “No,” Will said, his voice carried panic and grief, “no, please stay.”

     Both entered a long, aching silence. They remained still, though eventually Will looked downwards. He released his grip and retrieved his hand. Will’s shoulders tensed as he coiled slightly onto himself apologetically. Before Will could say anything, Ford called his attention, placing his hands on Will’s shoulders. He now looked upwards at him.

     “Will, I want nothing more than for you to be happy,” Ford said, gently, “and for that I will do everything.”

     Through a trace of sadness, Will smiled. “You’re too kind.”

     “There’s no such thing as too much kindness,” Ford said, his words hopelessly sincere.

     Will’s expression had remained static, but only for a moment before there was a tremor in his jaw and his eye glimmered and welled. Ford felt as if every breath had left him. Instinctively and desperately he had embraced Will, and only then could he breathe again. Will’s movements were slow, but after the instant’s shock, he embraced Ford in return.

     “I don’t understand,” Will said. “I feel,” he paused, “so much at once. It’s—” it was a longer pause this time.

     “Overwhelming,” Ford said and heard Will make a sound of agreement. Ford exhaled in response before continuing. “I feel it as well. I don’t understand either,” he chuckled, “but I think we could come to understand it—” This time it was he who paused.

     “Together,” Will said in a sweet, quiet tone.

     Ford smiled amidst a breath. He repeated the word. “Together.”

     He heard Will give a small, delighted laugh. Will hugged him closer, and Ford did the same, but after a moment he felt Will’s hands tremble around him. Noticing it, he had let go of the embrace, but placed his hands on Will’s upper arms.

     “Are you alright?” Ford asked, concerned.

     Will blinked, having been caught unawares. “Yes, just…a bit cold.”

     Night had fallen in its entirety with a sky full of stars that brought with it a chill to the air. Ford could only perceive the cold now that it had been mentioned. He was familiar with it and could tolerate it, but this was the first time Will had felt it.

     “Oh,” Ford said, “yes, of course,” he cleared his throat. “We should step inside.” Then he led Will through the entryway into the bedroom. He turned to join the balcony doors, and afterwards turned back to see that Will had made his way to sit on the floor, his back against the chest at the foot of the bed and in front of the fireplace, hands extended towards it for warmth. Seeing this, Ford headed to his bed, removing the quilting from it. He walked over to Will with it in his hands. “Here,” he said and placed it around him.

     “Thank you,” Will said before extending one of the ends of it, opening a space for Ford to sit next to him.

     Ford smiled and did so, sitting at Will’s right. Then he made sure that they were both completely enveloped in the quilted blanket. He looked to his side where he saw Will hold its fabric close to himself before partially covering his face with it and resting his head on Ford’s shoulder.

     Ford smiled again, “comfortable?”

     Will moved the fabric that covered his mouth before answering a cheerful “very.”

     They stayed quiet for a while thereafter, now watching the soft-sounding crackling flames of the fireplace. As time passed, their postures became more relaxed, both feeling even more comfortable with each other. Ford was resting his cheek on Will’s hair, with an arm around him, and Will nestling against him.

     “Ford?” Will called his attention.

      _“Hmm?”_ Ford’s sound carried a yawn behind it.

     “If we were to dance now as we had been that night,” Will moved to face him, “what would you do?”

     “If we were to dance,” Ford thought for a moment, “I would take your hand in mine,” he extended his hand slightly to the side, which Will then held, “focus on the steps as to not make a fool out of myself,” Will laughed at that, “…and then I would ask.”

     “Then ask,” Will said after a moment.

     “Will,” Ford said, timid but determined, “may I kiss you?”

     Will smiled and then made the faintest sound, “yes.”

     Ford had moved first, leaning in, though being careful to leave enough space for Will to back away if he had a change of mind. But Will hadn’t, swiftly closing the gap between them. They kissed, briefly, gently, and even when they shyly parted it was only the slightest distance. In that closeness they remained until both opened their eyes and Will had sheepishly hidden his face against Ford’s chest. To that Ford gave a loving laugh, hugging him close, and soon began to run his fingers softly through Will’s hair. Will, in turn, nuzzled against him, placing a hand on Ford’s arm.

     After a while, Ford felt Will’s grip ease, and seeing Will’s eyes were closed he knew Will had fallen soundly asleep. He remained still for a moment, then moved strands of Will’s hair to lay a kiss on his forehead, and though he knew Will could not hear it, he whispered to him. “I love you.”

     In measured movements he was able to carry Will and carefully lay him on the left side of the bed. Quietly, he retrieved the quilting and placed it gently on him. Will shifted to his side, but after slight alarm Ford was relieved to see that Will was still asleep. With caution, he laid down on the vacant spot on the bed before checking to see that he had not disturbed Will, in doing so he noticed something he hadn’t before. In Will’s sleep, his glow had muted slightly, enough to see the scattered and small pearlescent marks that ran from his cheeks to the bridge of his nose. Ford gave a small, adoring sigh.

    He wanted to hold him, have his arms around Will as he did before, safe-guard him closely in sleep and in the woken moments after sunrise and those that followed, but at this moment just being beside him sufficed. 

 

— — —

     The scenery that surrounded Will was captivating. He thought he recognized it, yet simultaneously felt it was the first time he had ever seen the panoramic view around him, arching trees meeting in a rich, green colored canopy. Some light as well as descending flowers seeped from a bright void above through the crowns of the trees to a slow-moving river below, the water carrying with it flowers and petals of soft pinks, blues, and white.

     Will rose from sitting at the river’s edge and looked downwards to see he wore a garment of flowing layers, white silk and lace with beading of pearls and shimmering silver details. The fabrics trailed behind him as, after a moment, he stepped barefoot into the river, its waters reaching just above his knees. And though he could only feel their cool temperature, it was a welcome sensation as opposed to nothing at all. As he stood there facing the riverbank opposite to him, he looked upwards to the canopy and saw an approaching pink flower, a small orchid, which landed softly on a hand he held before him. He was surprised to find that its petals, upon touch, had a faint, nondescript texture. After examining it curiously, Will gently placed it on the water’s surface and, seeing its movement, decided to follow the downwards stream of the current, though in the distance he could only see a radiant, opaque fog that never seemed near even as he moved towards it.

     Not long passed after traversing the river and its bends before Will could see a distant figure come into view from the haze, sitting on a fallen, moss-covered tree lying across the water, its branches making the trunk hover slightly over it. Will only had to walk a few steps forward before knowing certainly that it was Ford. When he was close enough that Ford could hear the spattering of his movement in the water, he had looked in Will’s direction and with a smile had stepped into the river to await him. As Will neared him, Ford had extended a welcoming hand. Will had extended his own to accept it, but the movement had translated to the waking world, bringing him out of his sleep.

     Will awoke to his hand reaching for nothingness on an empty spot beside him. What he could see of the room was covered in the warm-colored, orange tint of sunlight filtered through curtains. Will sat up drowsily with only partially open eyes. He heard Ford’s voice to his right.

     Ford, who had been quietly trying to search for something in the drawers of the room’s bureau, said, “good morning,” before sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

     Still in a bit of a daze, Will had offered him no reply, though he now looked at him.

     Ford extended a hand to caress Will’s cheek, his expression showing concern. “Did you have another nightmare?”

     “No,” Will said somnolently, placing his own hand above Ford’s and closing his eyes.

     “Then I suppose it was a pleasant dream,” Ford said in a quiet voice.

     Will smiled and nodded before opening his eyes again.

     “Well,” Ford said with a smile, and after an expectant silence said, “can I know?”

     Will laughed lightly before answering him. “I dreamt of a river of floating flowers,” he moved Ford’s hand and held it gently in both of his own, “and it lead me to you.”

 


End file.
